Oh that corner certainly won’t do. No no no. This beauty needs to be shown off, not left to wither in some grim corner. I want the light to bounce off her the way it bounced off mother’s teeth the day she threw a comb at Ms. Tottenham’s face from the parade float.
Yes, yes, over here is so very much better. Right smack dab in the center of the room. I want everyone that steps foot in this kitchen to be made keenly aware of the fact that I, Calvin Coolidge, own a refrigerator.
Gone are the days of keeping my jar of milk chilled in the White House creek. Gone are the days of eating a warm beef sandwich alone in the Senate Chambers toilet. And gone are the days of Woodrow leaving crude notes inside my copy of Horace’s Odes. Why, I’d like to see him try to get his skinny bastard fingers on my book again, now that I’ll be keeping it inside my REFRIGERATOR. Ho-ho, the look on his stupid horse face when he finds it missing from atop my desk! To imagine him shuffling through the halls, shoulders hung in defeat nearly brings me as much joy as does staring at my new culinary companion. Come to think of it, I could keep so many things inside this precious palace of chill—potatoes, tomatoes, unfinished thank you notes, perhaps even my great grandfather’s cane that he used to beat off an attacking turkey. I’d argue no one else has ever thought to store their precious belongings in a refrigerator. It is because they are all idiots. My god, only thirty seven minutes into this new chapter of my life as refrigerator owner and I feel as if I was present for every childbirth in history, and will be as such forevermore.
I must be firm in that this is MY REFRIGERATOR and no one may nap inside but ME, CALVIN COOLIDGE.
Am I sprouting wings? Has my heart doubled to the size of an ox? I smell nutmeg.
I must be so very careful. For someone may enter this very kitchen, and upon seeing such a magnificent creation, decide they must take my porcelain altar for themselves. The grief of such a tragedy might send my corporeal husk to heaven above. But I would never blame the lucky thief. How could I? All it takes is one look at this divine creation to be catapulted into pure and divine ecstatic bliss. I wonder if I should change my address to this refrigerator. I surely won’t be straying far, that is for sure. And when I must, how difficult it will be for me to be away from this refrigerator. Strangers, friends, and enemies alike will soon come to know when the sorrowful shadow has fallen upon my face and think to themselves, “That man misses his refrigerator.” I therefore mustn’t stray too far from this supreme hunk of joy. In fact, my next appointment isn’t until quarter after three. I think it best that I remain here to stand guard. In fact, that top shelf does seem invitingly large. If anyone else were here, they’d certainly agree with me that I should just tuck myself in for a little nap and…….
HELLO? WHO IS IT? DO PLEASE LEAVE ME BE. CAN’T YOU SEE THAT A DECENT MAN IS SIMPLY TRYING TO ENJOY A BRIEF RESPITE INSIDE HIS REFRIGERATOR? IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK? SWEET MOTHER OF GOD ABOVE AND BEFORE, WOULD YOU KINDLY DESIST WITH YOUR INCESSANT KNOCKING? YES DO PLEASE RUN OFF, THANK YOU.
My god, such inappropriate and inconsiderate behavior! I hope they ran off in shame! What kind of miserable twit interrupts another man’s nap like that? I ought to find out who this individual is, so that they may be appropriately admonished. Perhaps banished, even! Then and only then might I be able to sleep soundly once more.
But lo! What if I was mistaken? What if they weren’t trying to rouse me from slumber? What IF they were trying to climb inside MY refrigerator? They may have been unaware of my interior sleeping figure. How could I have been so foolish just moments ago? OF COURSE that’s what this mystery fellow must have been doing. I might almost pity him, were I not so veracious in my refrigerator ownership. For just as one might want to steal from me my beloved, they may just as equally want what I have been blessed with: a sacred napping nest. Why my fellow compatriot, I do sincerely hope you find what you seek. However, I must be firm in that this is MY REFRIGERATOR and no one may nap inside but ME, CALVIN COOLIDGE.
I do hate to stomp on other’s desires, but it simply must be the way. I can’t have another man sleeping in my refrigerator. Ho ho—how silly that would be!
I believe all this worry has led to an unfortunate conclusion. This holy vessel has brought with it much trouble. And how could it not! Therefore, I believe the solution obvious. Barricade all doors and windows of this room to prohibit entry from any potential thieves and or suitors. I will live the rest of my days right here in this very kitchen with my dear appliance.
For I, Calvin Coolidge, have a refrigerator, and I’m never leaving it.